


between the wall and a hard place

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, Letters, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Neighbour AU, Phone Sex, a smidge of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: When Neil hears alarming sounds from his neighbour's house, he's about to intervene, but a mortifying detail makes him reconsider. Cue excessive exchanging of notes between Neil and anonymous neighbour who may or may not hate Exy and may or may not want to meet him.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 76
Kudos: 453





	between the wall and a hard place

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies x
> 
> So a couple of days ago, I saw [this tumblr post](https://zigster-ao3.tumblr.com/post/190699690992/someone-please-turn-this-into-a-drarry-fic?fbclid=IwAR33S5ya92zmUFAIwPBMCAGSpWEZerGw-y1ev5Mbd3sModGRohC8OKa_XCQ) and went "make it andreil" (as one does lmao), but I'll have to say this fic was also inspired by an incredible [drarry fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991554?view_adult=true/). 
> 
> Hope you like it!

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Neil raised his head from his pillow with a certain amount of alarm and strained his ears, hoping he’d imagined the sound. There it was again, a series of muffled thumps, like the bed was hitting the wall. Repeatedly.

“What the hell,” Neil grumbled, getting up and padding across the room to knock on the wall, when it came – a scream so loud that Neil froze in his tracks, every instinct urging him to run. He spun around, grabbing his duffel and shoved a couple of shirts into it, making a mess of his wardrobe that his friends had meticulously arranged for him only a month ago. He stopped abruptly, giving himself a rueful shake.

“There’s no need to run,” he whispered into the ringing silence that clung to the room now. “You’re safe, you’re safe,” he repeated, dumping the clothes back onto the bed. Before he could drag in another breath, he heard the thumps again, which were now coming faster and faster. Neil stared at wall bemusedly, wondering what his neighbour could be doing. He checked the time: the clock glowed 11:34pm in red and gold. A housewarming gift to remember us by, Laila and Alvarez had said, hanging it up even as Jeremy scoffed. “He’s not going to forget us just because he’s moving to a different team.” Neil hadn’t said anything but the three of them understood his silences well enough.

He heard muffled sounds, like someone was groaning in pain and he instinctively pulled out a gun hidden in a secret compartment of the duffel. He couldn’t call the police, because he was distrustful of them, but Neil Josten knew how to take care of himself. He edged closer to the wall, leaning in to hear better. Someone was gasping. “Yep, definitely strangulation,” he muttered, pulling out his phone.

“Jeremy,” he croak-whispered into the phone.

“Neil?” Jeremy sounded both annoyed and curious and Neil’s discomfort at asking someone for help dissolved on the tip of his tongue.

“Uh,” he said eloquently.

“Neil?” Jeremy repeated, concern edging into his tone.

“Um so,” Neil managed to whisper into the phone as inconspicuously as he could. “I think someone is being killed next door.”

“What the fuck?” Jeremy yelled and Neil winced. “Neil,” he said. His voice sounded strangled. “You’ve got to call 911.”

Neil felt a ribbon of ice-cold fear float through his chest. “Absolutely not,” he bit out. “My mother raised me better than that.”

“Your mother dragged you through 14 countries in 8 years so your murderous father won’t catch up with you,” Jeremy screeched and Neil’s hair stood on end.

“Uh yes,” he snapped, “That’s why I’m here, calling you about a possible murder that may or may not be happening right next door.” The thumping had begun again and Neil could hear voices growing louder. This was a very long-drawn-out way to kill someone, he mused to himself.

“Okay what are you going to do?” Jeremy demanded, breaking Neil out of his thoughts that were turning into a lesson on efficient ways to kill.

“Should I pop in and teach them maybe?”

Silence.

“Jeremy?” Neil prompted, gazing at the wall in trepidation; the sounds now loud enough that he was sure Jeremy could hear them too.

“Teach them?” Jeremy echoed and Neil rolled his eyes.

“To kill better,” Neil scoffed, edging closer to the wall.

“NEIL,” Jeremy began but his supposed tirade was cut short by the voice next door.

“ _YES_ ,” it said. “ _YES YES FASTER_.”

“Faster?” Neil repeated.

“Faster?” came Jeremy’s confused voice down the phone’s speakers.

“Who wants to speed up their own death, Knox?”

“Neil,” Jeremy began again but was rudely stopped when the voice went higher in pitch and screamed “ _YES I LOVE YOUR FAT COCK INSIDE ME._ ”

Neil gaped at the wall.

Jeremy spluttered on the phone.

The pigeons brooding on the windowsill outside screeched as they took off in flight.

“Cock?” Neil said, still gaping at the wall. The thumping had stopped, leaving behind an eerie quiet.

“Neil,” Jeremy wheezed. “Fucking Josten.”

“Well,” Neil huffed angrily. “How was I supposed to know it was fucking?”

From the sounds on Jeremy’s end, it looked like he had dropped the phone.

“Imagine what would have happened IF I’d called the cops?” Neil said, still fuming, now pacing his room, shoving the duffel back into the cupboard. “Christ, I almost packed my bag.”

Jeremy coughed, trying valiantly to hold back his laughter. “Imagine what would have happened if you’d gone in to teach them.”

“Jeremy,” Neil said seriously. “Never,” he emphasised, “Never talk about this to me again. Like ever.”

Jeremy dissolved into fits of laughter again and Neil made a mental note to ask Laila to whack his ass the next time she met him.

He felt restless and stupid. “No one has fucking sex THAT loud,” he muttered, pulling on his shoes. Walking helped, walking always helped. He wouldn’t dare run at odd times and draw Kevin Day’s ire. He already harangued him enough every day since he’d move to Boston and transferred to Kevin’s team.

Neil tore out a sheet of paper and scribbled **“There is this concept: it’s called closing your windows while having scary loud sex. I ALMOST CALLED THE COPS, ASSHOLE. I didn’t because I heard the words “fat cock”. Please go to therapy. And close your windows. And maybe move your bed away from the damn wall.”**

He folded the note, slipped it under his neighbour’s door and stormed off, feeling incredibly annoyed and slightly turned on. He would never admit that last part to Jeremy. Never. It was mortifying at best.

\------

“You mean to say it was sex?” Allison whispered at him, eyes wide, a look of unfiltered, potent glee spreading across her face and Neil nodded, amused.

“Sex,” he confirmed. “Rather loud.”

Allison cackled, the sound echoing around the nearly empty gym attached to the court. They were early for morning practice, Neil opting to run on the treadmill while she did deadlifts. He knew Allison Reynolds from his games with the Foxes and knew her as a formidable opponent as part of the Foxes’ lineup, but he’d been surprised to notice that she had a way about her that put him at ease. Or, as at ease as he could be. Allison wasn’t invasive and Neil appreciated the hell out of her for that.

“So what did you do? Call 911?”

“What do you think?” Neil blanched, pushing down the frisson of alarm that shook him.

“Well, obviously not,” Allison said, looking at him with a steady eye. “We don’t trust cops.”

Neil smiled – genuine and sharp. “YES, that’s what I told Jeremy too.”

“Knox?”

“Who else?”

She motioned for him to continue.

“Although I was about to break in to give a few pointers,” Neil shrugged.

“For sex?” Allison cackled, dropping the barbell and leaning against the wall.

“No,” Neil swore. “For murder. It seemed sloppy.”

Allison doubled over with laughter, “You’d have fit right in with the Foxes, Neil.”

Neil shrugged again, pleased. “Yeah, my presence would have been an improvement. Although I’d rather I’d not meet Minyard anywhere.”

“Aaron?” Allison said, raising both her eyebrows.

“Andrew,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“What about Andrew?” Matt walked into the gym, throwing his duffel down, looking at them curiously.

Neil grinned involuntarily at him. He liked Matt.

“Neil says he’s glad he wasn’t with us because he hates Andrew,” Allison piped up and Neil rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate him,” he protested. “It’s just a very intense dislike.”

Matt dithered for a second, “Andrew’s good.”

Allison’s eyebrows rose again and then she sighed, “Yeah, I guess.”

Neil opened his mouth to ask but Kevin barreled into the gym, leaving their weary-looking coach trailing behind him. “Are we ready? I have a couple of pointers for the game tomorrow.”

Neil sighed and looked at the ceiling.

Allison and Matt chorused, “Shut up, Kevin.” The look on his face made Neil crack another grin. He was getting soft.

“Anyway,” Matt nudged his shoulder on the way to the bench press, “You’ll be meeting Minyard at the game tomorrow.”

“No,” Neil groaned, burying his face in his hands. He loathed Andrew Minyard and going by the glowers he’d been shooting Neil’s way on court for the past four years, he knew it was mutual.

\------

Trudging up the stairs to his fifth-floor apartment, Neil sullenly contemplated the state of his team, the next day’s game and the general state of his life. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping squarely on a sheet of paper wedged between the floor and the front door.

He picked it up, brows furrowing in confusion until he realised who it was from. He promptly flushed, shutting the door behind him hurriedly.

“ **Dear neighbour,** ” the note began and Neil frowned, not sure if it was sarcasm or not. “ **I hadn’t realised how loud my companion was last night. We were both quite drunk and weren’t at our best. Accept my apologies, and maybe a coffee?**

  1. **I already go to therapy.**



**PPS. The bed won’t move.”**

A very flustered Neil noticed that it was signed “ **Not-so-loud guy** ”. He didn’t know what to say in return. He wasn’t expecting a response at all, let alone a semi-polite one. He whipped out his phone.

 **Neil:** what does it mean if someone offers me a coffee

 **Jeremy:** offers or asks you if you want a coffee?

 **Neil:** the second one

 **Jeremy:** it’s a date

“Damnit,” Neil swore, flopping down on the couch. He didn’t know what people did on dates. He pulled out another sheet of paper and scribbled. Neil paused and checked the neighbour’s note. He marveled at the handwriting – neat and round and very tidy. He crumpled the sheet he was writing on and pulled another one to himself, and carefully wrote, trying not to be sloppy.

“ **Do you ask all your neighbours if they want coffee? Is this a date?** ” He dithered, questions dancing on the tip of his tongue. He pushed them aside and wrote, “ **I can’t accept it if you’re a minor or an old person. Also, won’t your companion mind? Unless they’re into it, then I think I’m okay with it.”** Scribbling a hasty, “ **Your annoyed neighbour** ” he tiptoed out of his apartment.

There were only two houses on each floor and Neil being a pro athlete, rather enjoyed the privacy his building provided. It meant he didn’t see anybody on his way in and out and nobody saw him. He peered around the corner at his neighbour’s dark brown wooden door and sighed. There were a couple of plants that were in various stages of wilting and a black and white doormat with a picture of a cat giving the finger and the words _Go Away_. Neil grinned and tucked the paper under the doormat in a way his neighbour would definitely notice, and slinked away.

He had a feeling he would like them.

Jeremy, on the other hand, was not. “They might be a murderer, Neil.”

“I have experience with those,” he replied testily, trying to pop the toast out of the toaster. “Ow, fuck.”

“What?” came Jeremy’s startled voice.

“Burnt my finger on the toaster. No, Jeremy, I don’t think they are a murderer. The note was pretty apologetic.”

Jeremy sighed. “I just want you to be careful.”

“Anything else?” Neil taunted him in a sing-song tone that he knew would annoy Jeremy.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Stop eating toast for dinner.”

“Stop policing my food habits! You sound like Kevin now.”

“Oh,” Jeremy’s voice took a certain wistful quality that seemed to appear every time Neil mentioned Kevin’s name. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Jeremy, your crush is getting out of hand.”

Jeremy scoffed, “Nothing of that sort. Will you let me know what happens with the ax murderer next door?”

Neil couldn’t help but laugh. Jeremy’s humour had a morbid side no one really noticed.

\------

Neil spotted Andrew Minyard from all the way across the court. Kevin had jogged over to talk to him after their disaster of a game ended, and Andrew’s upturned, glowering face caught Neil’s attention. His glowering face always caught Neil’s attention for reasons he didn’t really want to admit, even to himself. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling his body sag under the exertion and made to walk to the locker, when Andrew looked back at him. Neil glared and Andrew lifted two fingers and tapped them to the side of his head in a mock salute. Andrew Minyard always seemed to know when Neil was looking at him and it sent unease and elation crashing through him every time.

“Stop glaring at the goalkeeper, Josten. He’ll melt or something,” Allison laughed, knocking his shoulder on her way to the locker room. Neil followed, huffing an exasperated breath. “He glared first.”

“Did he now,” she said mildly. Deceptively mildly.

Neil frowned, taking his gloves off. He hated losing matches, and he wanted to pick apart every move with Kevin, who was currently talking to Andrew. That’s why he was annoyed, he told himself. “He gives me a reason to dislike him every time, what can I say,” he shrugged at Allison, choosing to ignore the smirk on her face.

The players trooped in loud and noisy and Neil politely nodded at the lot, wishing he could leave early. There were match plays to obsess over, tea to be had – Neil Josten had no time for his loud, raucous teammates. He was tired.

“Hey,” Matt loomed over him and Neil cracked an uncertain smile.

“Yes?”

“Come with us tonight? We’re going to the pub, the new one around the corner.”

“Uh,” Neil hesitated, working out how to say “ _hate crowds and loud music makes me want to barf_ ” politely, when Allison slunk to Matt’s side.

“Kevin’s coming. You can diss our abysmal play along with him.”

Neil cracked a smile at that.

“Dan’s coming too,” Matt smiled and Neil wished he could go. He liked Dan Wilds, she was a force on the court.

“I want to say hello to Dan, but I’ll have to bail,” he told them, mentally crossing his fingers that they wouldn’t as invasive questions.

“Andrew’s coming too,” Allison said and Neil visibly blanched.

A look passed between Matt and Allison, one he couldn’t read.

“No.”

They sighed. “Neil-”

“No. It’s- ” he sucked in a breath. “I can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Matt nodded. “It’s cool.”

“Really?” Neil breathed.

Allison held up her hands in a placating gesture, “We won’t push.”

Neil sighed, relief yanking his shoulders down from their tense line.

“Although, we ARE going to talk about Andrew,” she jabbed her finger at him and he let loose a grin. He was helpless to do anything else.

“Sure, Alli.”

“Don’t _sure_ me, young man. And what’s this Alli nonsense.”

“Bye Alli,” he yelled over his shoulder, walking into a shower stall, laughing at her annoyance.

\---------------------

“ **Dear annoyed neighbour,**

**Did you really hint at a threesome? I mean- okay no I don’t know what I mean. To answer your questions, a) no, I don’t ask all my neighbours if they want coffee, b) it can be whatever you want it to be, c) the companion doesn’t care, d) have you not heard of one-night stands?**

**Your trying-to-not-be-amused-and-failing neighbour**

  1. **I’m 24**



**PPS. Did you move your bed against the wall too, you hypocrite?”**

Neil grinned at the offending piece of paper and then let out a full-belly laugh. The absolute cheek. He rooted around for paper, weariness and the heavy feeling in his chest forgotten.

“Can’t believe I’m writing. Using pen and paper,” he mumbled and shook the pen once, twice.

“ **Dear Trying-to-not-be-amused-and-failing,** ” he wrote and then flushed a furious shade of red when he read _threesome **.**_

“Uh,” he paused, momentarily at a loss for words.

 **Neil:** I think I accidentally implied a threesome

 **Jeremy:** uhhhh

 **Laila:** NEIL

 **Alvarez:** lmaoooooo

 **Laila:** …….how?

 **Neil:** I DON’T KNOW

 **Jeremy:** wait you want to have a threesome?

 **Neil:** NO

 **Neil:** I mean I don’t know but NO

 **Alvarez:** lmaooooooo

 **Laila:** I’m cry-laughing here

 **Neil:** Fat lot of use you are

 **Jeremy:** wait what’s happening?

 **Neil:** I DON’T KNOW

 **Jeremy:** DON’T DO ANYTHING

 **Jeremy:** WAIT

 **Jeremy:** I’M CALLING

 **Alvarez:** Jeremy broke his caps lock

 **Neil:** WHAT DO YOU MEAN DON’T DO ANYTHING I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING

 **Laila:** Can yall stop yelling for one minute

 **Jeremy:** no

 **Neil:** No

 **Alvarez:** no

“LISTEN,” Neil picked up Jeremy’s call. Why did he sound strangled?

“What’s going on?” came Jeremy’s voice and Neil flopped back onto the couch. That he had pushed against the wall. The one he shared with his amused neighbour now. Neil hurriedly walked into the kitchen and whispered into his phone.

“I might have written something that might have implied a threesome, I don’t really remember.”

“Is this the neighbour?”

“Yeah.”

Neil fidgeted while Jeremy thought for a couple of seconds.

“Do you want to have a threesome?”

“I’m,” Neil paused. Did he want a threesome? “Um,” he said, and heard Jeremy’s sigh.

“Neil.”

“Yeah?” he thunked his head against the cupboard.

“Just meet them for a coffee first.”

“That makes so much sense. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“NEIL IT’S LIKE 2AM HERE,” Jeremy thundered and Neil jumped.

“Oops?”

“Shut up and tell me about the match.”

“No,” Neil groaned.

“Minyard was in top form, wasn’t he? Blocked four-”

“Yeah, yeah I KNOW. I was there,” Neil grit his teeth and glowered at the wall. The same wall that separated him and his neighbour.

“Uh huh. Someone’s annoyed,” Jeremy said. Neil knew he was smirking.

“Shut up, Jeremy.”

“He’s a good player.”

“I KNOW,” Neil growled. Oh he knew. _He knew_. He couldn’t concentrate half the time because Minyard was a solid, immovable force at the goal, dragging Neil’s attention to him like a magnet.

“Right, you want to discuss play? Kevin texted me, but I think he’s out.”

“Oh god, I have to deal with Kevin tomorrow.”

“Don’t be hard on him,” Jeremy replied petulantly and Neil scoffed at the ceiling.

“Your crush is getting out of hand, Knox.”

Jeremy yelped and cursed at Neil while he hung up.

Neil morosely went back to the letter. “ **I didn’t hint at anything. Don’t presume. Okay, I’m honoured that you chose me over old Mrs. Finch downstairs. Would this Saturday work? Let me know if you’re free.**

**Your suspicious-but-friendly neighbour**

  1. **I KNOW WHAT A ONE-NIGHT STAND IS, YOU HEATHEN**



**PPS. Oh well I’m 23 (I am surprised)**

**PPPS. I did. And what about it?”**

He opened the front door, looked both ways quickly, turned the corner and slid the paper under the doormat and all but ran back in, desperate to not get caught and also to watch highlights of his match.

Neil stretched out and replayed the match, trying to ignore Andrew’s presence on the screen when he heard sounds next door a couple of hours later. His head fell back on the couch and he groaned quietly, “Not again.” But it seemed quieter in comparison to the other night. It felt like his neighbour was moving furniture. He increased the volume to drown out the noise. The noise stopped, rather abruptly.

A quarter of an hour later, Neil nearly jumped out of skin when he heard scuffling outside his front door. He stopped in surprise when he saw the paper that had been pushed under the door. Somehow, the speed of the response made him feel exposed, it made their exchange seem real in a way he couldn’t define. He warily shook it open.

**“Dear suspicious-but-friendly,**

**Is it absolutely necessary to watch Exy at 1am? At this volume? And this match, especially? It happened like six hours ago, and was fucking abysmal except for one thing. TURN THE VOLUME DOWN OR CHANGE THE CHANNEL.**

**Excuse my presumptions, your lordship. Mrs. Finch threatened to fling her flowerpots through my window if she happened to see me on her floor, so you’re my safest bet. Would 4pm work for you?**

**Good job on knowing what a one-night stand is. Would you like a medal? And we’re almost the same age. Colour me surprised. Unless you’re lying, then there will be no forgiveness for you.**

**Your annoyed neighbour who hates Exy**

  1. **I see you didn’t acknowledge the “it can be whatever you want it to be” part.**



**PPS. You know I can hear you throw things at the wall, right?**

**PPPS. SERIOUSLY, CHANGE THE CHANNEL.”**

Neil gaped at the paper for a full shocked minute and burst out laughing. He was aware that his exy-hating neighbour could probably hear him. He didn’t care.

\-----------------

“What did you write back?”

Neil peered at Allison through his Exy racquet that he was dangerously swinging over his head. Kevin would smack his head if he saw, Neil thought wryly. He took his phone out and showed Alli a photo of his letter. She looked at him with a suppressed smile, “What did you take a picture for? Posterity?”

“No,” Neil shrugged. “Jeremy.”

“Hmm,” she squinted at him. “Are you sure you two aren’t-”

“No,” Neil yelped. “God, no.” At Allison’s smirk he added, a little vehemently, “He has a crush on Kevin anyway. You,” he pointed a menacing finger, “Aren’t allowed to tell. Or make bets out of it.”

“Darling do you know me or not? I already have a betting pool running.”

Neil narrowed his eyes at her, “Any bets on me?”

Allison smiled innocently, “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s a you problem.”

Neil huffed and waved the phone in her face and she snatched it from him.

“ **Hello exy-hater,**

**Yes, it is infact absolutely necessary to watch Exy at 1am. At 2am and 3am too. All hours of day would be fine, really. And EXCUSE ME IT WAS NOT AN ABYSMAL MATCH. What do you mean, except for one thing? There were several amazing things about it. I cannot believe you cannot stand Exy. Do you still want to meet me?**

**4pm works fine. And what the hell did you do to make Mrs. Finch hate you?**

**I’m a liar usually, but decided to give you the truth this time. You can keep your forgiveness.**

**Your neighbour who is annoyed that you hate exy**

  1. **Fine, it’s a date.**



**PPS. Oh believe me, I KNOW**

Allison chuckled and passed the phone back to him. “So,” she waggled her eyebrows.

“What?” Neil tensed.

“Did you change the channel?”

“No,” Neil replied with a devious smile. “I increased the volume.” The pitch of her laughter made heads turn in their direction and Neil grinned.

“I’m surprised the guy didn’t break down the door.”

Neil scuffed the heel of his shoe against the floor, “We’re meeting on Saturday anyway.”

“Hmm,” her gaze was assessing. “Where?”

“Um what?”

“You said Saturday, but do you know where you’re meeting?”

“Oh,” Neil slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Unbelievable,” Allison looked at him incredulously and got up, tying her hair into a ponytail. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Neil stalled, nervously.

She shot him a look loaded with disdain that he was surprised his hair hadn’t caught fire yet. “To get you date-appropriate clothes.”

“It’s not-” he began and then mentally kicked himself for writing “it’s a date”. “Fine,” he deflated.

“Don’t be a liar, Josten,” Allison led the way out, “You are incredibly pleased that they asked you for coffee, didn’t you?”

Neil pressed his lips together. He couldn’t say that out of everything his neighbour had written, “ **you’re my safest bet** ” had affected him the most.

\-------

Allison gave him three choices: a pale pink sweater, a dark green button down or a navy tshirt.

“Is there no orange?” Neil gingerly lifted the sleeve of the button down and let it drop back.

“You should have played for the Foxes, what with your obsession with orange.”

“I just think it’s bright,” Neil muttered, dumping the clothes into her arms and stalking into the nearest aisle. He pulled out an orange sweatshirt and held it up to show Allison and she rolled her eyes and plucked it from his hands and threw it aside, “So basic.”

“Listen-” he puffed up indignantly and Allison stopped him with a look. “Will you leave this to me? I promise to make you look good.” Neil didn’t see the point, but agreed reluctantly. “Fine,” he held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Fine. Go ahead, ma’am.”

“Now, was that so hard,” she sniffed and pushed past him.

Three hours later, Neil was back home with a cream sweater and burnt orange overalls, a pair of expensive boots, and an iced coffee sloshing around his stomach. “Never letting her pick my clothes again,” he furiously swore under his breath, jiggling his key into the lock.

His stomach gave a pleasant sort of flop at the sight of now-familiar folded sheet of white paper on the floor, wedged in the gap underneath the door. He threw his bags unceremoniously onto the sofa and flopped down beside them with a soft _thwack_. “Let’s see,” he murmured, carefully opening the letter, excitement thrumming through him.

**“Dear exy fanatic,**

**I hate you. I’m soundproofing my goddamn room. I didn’t have to listen to a rerun of an Exy match at 1AM IN THE MORNING. I am horrified to discover that I still do want to meet you. I cannot believe myself either.**

**Okay, 4pm at the café by the park? The one with the big windows and almond croissants on the menu.**

**I simply told Mrs. Finch I like cats more than I do her dogs.**

**Thank you for your honesty. I am truly blessed.**

**Your annoyed neighbour who is looking forward to meeting an exy fanatic”**

Neil grinned but his smile fell slightly when he saw there was no post-script this time. He wasn’t known for his patience, so he ripped out a sheet from the notepad on the table and hastily wrote:

**“If I had to hear some guy yell “give me your fat cock” through the wall, then you had to listen to an exy match. Stop cribbing, I’ll get you noise-cancelling headphones for your birthday.**

**HOW DARE YOU TELL MRS. FINCH THAT? jk her dogs scare me.**

**I’m okay with the café. See you on Saturday at 4pm. (I’ll be in orange)**

**Tell me: what is the one redeemable thing about yesterday’s exy match?**

**(For someone who claims to hate exy, you sure do watch matches HUH?)”**

He quickly, deftly delivered the note and slipped back into his room, crashing onto his bed to sleep.

In the morning, when he pulled on his shoes, Neil found another note. All it said was:

**“Fair enough. See you Saturday. (ORANGE? I’ll be the one wearing a 3)**

  1. **It’s Boston’s striker. He makes Exy bearable.”**



Neil sat down heavily. His mouth felt dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

 _It’s Kevin_ , he told himself. _They mean Kevin. There’s no way it could be me._

\--------------

Neil fidgeted. He fiddled with his sleeves, pushed them down, pulled them up. He thought of his scars on display – the jagged lines that ran from elbow to wrist, the burn marks dotting his right forearm, the violence he wore on his skin for everyone to see. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows with defiance and looked at his reflection. He thought his hair clashed horribly with his overalls, but Allison never went wrong.

“Shut up, Neil,” he told his reflection. He glowered back at himself.

Jeremy had texted him a “ _call me when the date is over_ ”, and Neil clung to it like a lifeline.

 **Neil:** They watch Exy, they know who I am

 **Jeremy:** still don’t know they’re meeting you

 **Neil:** …….

 **Neil:** Stop being right all the time

 **Neil:** But also what if they freak out and leave

 **Jeremy:** their loss. You get home and facetime me and Laila, we’ll have ice cream

 **Neil:** okay

 **Jeremy:** it’ll be fine

Neil opened his door a crack and peered into the hallway, making sure there was no one out and dashed down the stairs, hoping to not run into his neighbour prematurely, or Mrs. Finch and her dogs.

He walked down the street, and cut through the park, past trees and laughing children and an exuberant group of people loudly discussing where to go next. He took a deep breath, he took two. He was going to be fine.

At 4pm, he pushed the door open to the café by the park, the one with the big windows, rough flooring and wooden tables dappled with sunlight. He scanned the place quickly. There were only three people apart from him: an old couple sitting sitting side-by-side on a squashy couch, and at the farthest end of the café, brooding by the window, the sun catching in his blonde hair, sat Andrew Minyard in his team Jersey.

Neil stumbled forward involuntarily, the jangle of the bell alerting Andrew. He watched Andrew’s eyebrows furrow first, followed by a split second of shock that quickly disappeared behind a blank mask that settled over his face. Neil walked toward him, involuntarily, disbelievingly, his feet leading him along without his express permission.

“What are you doing here?” Neil rasped.

Andrew looked back, the slight twitch of his lips the only indication that he was interested in the conversation. “What are _you_ doing here, Josten?” When Neil failed to respond, he cocked his head sideways and raked his eyes over Neil’s outfit, making Neil’s ears feel hot for some reason.

“Would you say that’s orange?” he asked in that infuriating drawl that Neil had come to know solely through insults and interviews. He peered at Andrew’s jersey, the O3 embalzoned on the arm making his breath hitch despite the glaring obvious staring him in the face.

“Yes,” Neil grit his teeth and to his shock, Andrew thunked his head on the table. In defeat. And then to both Neil and Andrew’s shock, Neil burbled out a strangled laugh.

“What part of this is funny to you, Josten?”

Neil collapsed into fits of laughter, tears streaming down his face, and buried his face in his hands. “I’m-”

“Honestly,” he heard Andrew huff, and looked up, feeling only slightly hysterical and partly undone.

“You,” he choked, plonking himself onto the chair opposite Andrew. “It’s you, oh my god.”

“Me,” Andrew said, resting his chin oh his hand, trying and failing to suppress a smile. Which was a barely there twitch of his lips, but it was _something_.

“So,” Neil coughed, raising an eyebrow and Andrew hummed in response.

“So?”

“You haven’t left yet.”

Andrew pretended to look at his watch. “If I’d wanted to leave, I would have the second you poked your terrible auburn mop into the café.”

Neil suddenly felt self-conscious and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um. You don’t want to leave?”

Andrew only scoffed in response and eyed the croissants. “Do I look like I want to leave?”

Neil eyed him, his mussed hair, his jersey, the faint freckles across his cheeks and nose, his sharp gaze, and smirked. He smirked some more when he saw Andrew’s ears turn a faint pink. He cleared his throat, “Question.”

Andrew met his gaze over his steepled fingers, “Yes?”

“Why the jersey?”

Andrew sucked in a breath. “I wanted whoever it was to know who I am. And what better than this?” he plucked at the neck of his shirt. Neil looked away.

“Hmm, you hate exy though?”

“I should have known when you watched that blasted match at 2 in the morning,” Andrew grumbled and Neil hid his smile in the spaces between his fingers.

“And I should have known when you said it had one redeeming factor and it was the striker.”

Andrew, for a moment looked like a deer caught in headlights but the expression vanished as soon as it had come. “Um,” he said.

“So, Kevin, huh? You two are close aren’t you?” Neil said, biting down annoyance, willing himself to look at Andrew instead of addressing the spoons in front of him. Why were there three spoons in three sizes in front of him?

Andrew wore an unreadable expression and asked, “What?”

“Kevin,” Neil shrugged, “The striker? Is it the old age, Minyard? Making you forgetful?”

Andrew thunked his head back on to the table mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like _fucking save me right now_. “Neil,” he said and Neil was jolted to the present.

“Huh?” he said, wondering why Andrew calling him by his name unnerved him pleasantly.

“Who’s the other striker who plays for your team?”

“Uh, me?”

Andrew raised both his eyebrows in an “ _AND?_ ” gesture and when the realisation hit him, Neil felt like a squashed ant.

“ME?” his hands shook and he promptly dropped them onto his lap. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

“But you hate me!”

“I do,” Andrew replied calmly, ripping into his almond croissant. _Like a heathen_ , a small part of Neil’s mind catalogued.

“Then?”

Andrew thunked his head on the backrest of his chair this time. “Do you hate me?” He was a head-thunker, Neil noted with interest.

“No,” Neil replied instantly and regretted it swiftly. Andrew’s eyes widened.

For the space of a heartbeat they both looked at each other, in shock, feeling surreal.

“Right,” Andrew cleared his throat. “That’s settled then.”

Neil gaped at him for a second more then shut his mouth and sipped at his coffee – plain, black. “Question,” he said and Andrew hummed in response.

“How come I’ve seen Mrs. Finch AND her dogs but never you?”

Andrew smirked at him, a different kind of lip twitch than the previous one. Neil was on the way to whipped. “I use the fire escape.”

“But it’s rickety and we live on the fifth floor.”

Andrew huffed, “Believe me, I know, Neil.”

Neil nodded, thinking he had a lot more to learn about Andrew when his thoughts were interrupted by a question from him.

“When did you move in here?”

“When I got transferred.”

“So,” Andrew took a sip of his coffee – overly sweet, “A month?”

At Neil’s startled look, he scoffed, “I know a lot about you, Josten.”

Neil had the audacity to blush. “Question,” he said and Andrew hummed in response.

“Are you having a good time?”

Andrew startled at that, Neil noted, adding it to his rapidly growing “ _Intriguing Things About Andrew Minyard_ ” list.

“I am,” he said evenly. Then, “Are you?”

Neil nodded, a little overwhelmed and very surprised.

“Question,” Andrew said and Neil looked at him intently. “Yes?”

“Do you really think I hate you?”

Neil licked his lips nervously, vaguely noticing the way Andrew’s eyes tracked the movement. “Until about,” he checked his watch, “30 minutes ago, I thought so.”

“But now?” Andrew prompted.

“I think I might have been mistaken,” Neil smiled and noticed with satisfaction that Andrew’s throat turned faintly pink too.

They looked at each other for a moment and then two before Neil averted his eyes and took a deep breath. “Question,” he said and Andrew hummed in response.

“Do you want to do this again?” He met Andrew’s gaze after a beat and held it, projecting a confidence he didn’t feel. In the moment that stretched between question and answer, he realised two things: one, he liked Andrew Minyard and two, he always had.

“Yes,” Andrew said, and Neil smiled. It was helpless, it was involuntary and it was an utter fucking surprise.

“Question,” Andrew said and Neil nodded, unable to tear his gaze away.

“I’ve liked your smart mouth since the day you opened it to rip Riko apart.”

Neil felt heat expand in his chest, ballooning out till his fingertips tingled, till it reached the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. “That was,” he stammered, tripping over his own words. “That was not a question,” he looked at Andrew accusingly. Andrew smoothed the front of his jersey with staggering calm and looked up at him, “Semantics, Neil.”

Neil huffed. And then, “That long?”

“That long,” Andrew agreed.

Neil smiled again. “Question,” he said, and Andrew hummed in response.

“So,” he said, “fat cock, eh?”

Watching the usually unfazed Andrew Minyard choke on his drink was a sight Neil would cherish for as long as he would live.

\--------

Andrew pressed Neil into the wall with his whole body and kissed him like he was the last the man left on earth. Neil gasped and felt warm all over, like he had a low fever. He held on to Andrew’s shoulders, fingers digging in as Andrew rucked up his sweater, bunching it up so that his waist and hips were exposed. Andrew touched his nose to Neil’s briefly and moved to kiss his cheek. “Neil,” he rumbled and Neil felt he would combust spontaneously. Neil wanted to drown in his voice, in his scent. He was being desperate and horny and very unashamed by the whole thing.

“What?” he managed to gasp, trying to stay put and not squirm as he felt Andrew place tiny kisses from his jaw down his neck.

“Where can I touch you?” Andrew sucked the skin of his neck into his mouth. Neil thought he liked this bruise better than the others. “Anywhere,” he whined and felt Andrew’s answering smile right on his skin. Andrew wasted no time in putting his hands on Neil’s waist and went in for his lips like a man starved. This kiss was nothing like Neil had experienced before. He couldn’t think. His brain was melted slush.

“Andrew,” he gasped again, arching into the touch, hoping Andrew wouldn’t notice his desperation. Andrew stepped back and let go of his waist and his lips, one by one. He looked debauched. The unflappable Andrew Minyard looked like undone and Neil felt a hot frisson of reckless thrill shooting down his spine at the thought that he was responsible for it. He grinned lazily at Andrew and watched him roll his eyes even as a faint pink colour dusted his cheeks.

“Give me your number,” Andrew ordered and Neil rattled it off automatically. Andrew only nodded once, and pulled Neil closer by the back of his neck and ghosted another kiss over his lips. Neil shuddered. Andrew kissed him again, more gently this time, the pressure of his lips grounding Neil. “I thought you were a pipedream,” Andrew murmured, his breath hot on Neil’s lips. Neil pushed closer and licked Andrew’s lips, drawing a startled breath out of Andrew.

“I’m solid, I’m real, I’m here.”

“You like me,” Andrew said, assessing him.

Neil nodded. “I do,” he said simply. Andrew shook his head and smirked. Neil watched him. Andrew clasped their hands together and drew them to his chest. Neil’s knuckles rubbed against the soft material of his jersey, and underneath it he could feel Andrew’s chest, and his heart. He sucked in a slow breath. Andrew put his hands to his mouth, sucked a marked on the inside of his wrist, said goodnight in a deceptively sweet tone, rounded the corner to his apartment and left.

Neil stood in the darkened hallway outside his apartment and stared. “What?” he said. No one responded. Minutes later, his phone rang, shrill and jarring with an unknown number. Neil, still perplexed, picked up, already knowing who it was.

“Hello.” Andrew’s voice was a low, sinful rumble over the phone and Neil’s knees almost buckled.

“You bastard,” he said with feeling and let himself into his house.

Andrew chuckled. “Were you expecting more?”

“You utter bastard,” Neil fumed, adjusting himself.

“Do you want to do this?”

“Do what?” Neil said, his voice echoing in the empty room, the darkness broken by the light pooling in through the windows.

“This,” Andrew said. Neil knew he meant _this_ as in _them_ , but also felt something more urgent in that second. He could _hear_ him, over the phone and also through the thin wall that separated them – faint noises that could be anything. “Yes,” he murmured.

“Get on the couch,” Andrew said and Neil instantly complied. It thudded against the wall and Neil felt Andrew go quiet. “Damn,” he breathed. Neil agreed. Andrew’s breathing sped up, quiet and fast, in sync with the _thump thump thump_ of the bed hitting the wall. “Andrew,” Neil said, his voice a strangled whisper. He pushed his hands down his pants and stifled a moan into a cushion.

“I want to hear you,” Andrew said, sounding like it took every bit of self-control for him to sound as calm as he did. His breaths and his bed were a different story altogether.

“I-” Neil stuttered, “Wasn’t expecting this.” He didn’t usually jerk off but this felt insane. He wondered why he didn’t do this more often.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no,” Neil gasped. “I’m- I think I’m-” He gasped when he heard Andrew moan. He heard it twice and it melted any remaining defences. “Andrew, damnit fuck you I’m coming.”

“Let go, Neil,” Andrew rasped, and Neil did. He came and he came and it was so intense that he felt endless. “Andrew?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you-”

“Yeah.” It was brusque, but Neil knew better than to take words at face value.

“That was-”

“Mind blowing? I know.”

“Stop smirking,” Neil grumbled.

“I meant the date,” Andrew said quietly and Neil’s chest constricted sharply. “It really was,” Neil said softly.

“Sleep,” Andrew grunted and hung up.

It was a long while before Neil fell asleep. Judging from the lack of sounds next door, it took Andrew forever too.

\------

**“Dear exy-loving, infuriating mess,**

**Meet me for breakfast. My place. You know where.**

**Yours,**

**Andrew”**

Neil grinned and tucked the paper safely into the pocket of his shorts and turned the corner to his neighbour’s place.

“Morning,” Andrew said, leaning on the door, looking at ease.

“Morning,” Neil grinned.

Andrew kissed it right off his mouth.


End file.
